Don Quixote : The Princess Micomicona 2/2
The second part of the sixty-fifth tale from Heroes of Chivalry
All stood silent to see what he would do, whilst the knight, casting his eyes on the beautiful Dorothea, with great gravity and calmness spoke as follows, “I am informed, beautiful lady, by this my squire, that your greatness has come to an end, and your condition is destroyed. For, instead of being a queen and a mighty princess, you are now become a private damsel. If this has been done by the special order of that sage magician, the king your father, because he dreaded that I could not give you all necessary help, I say that he does not know half his art, and has never understood the histories of knightly adventures. For if he had read them with the attention that I have, he would have found how many knights of less fame than myself have ended far more desperate adventures than this, for it is no great matter to kill a giant, be he ever so proud. For in truth it is not so many hours since I myself fought with one. But I will be silent, lest they tell me I lie. Time, the detecter of all things, will disclose it when we least expect.”
“Thou foughtest with two wine-bags, not with a giant,” cried the innkeeper.
Don Fernando told him to be silent and not to interrupt Don Quixote, who continued his speech thus, “In fine, I say, high and disinherited lady, do not trouble if your father has made this change in you, for there is no peril so great on earth but my sword shall open a way through it, and by overthrowing your enemies’ head to the ground I shall set your crown on your own head within a few days.”
Don Quixote said no more, but waited for the princess’s answer. She, knowing Don Fernando’s wish that she should continue to carry out their plan, answered with a good grace and pleasant manner, saying, “Whosoever informed you, valorous Knight of the Rueful Countenance, that I have altered and transformed my being, hath not told you the truth, for I am the very same today as I was yesterday. True it is that my fortunes have somewhat changed and given me more than I hoped for or could wish for, but for all that I have not ceased to be what I was before, and I still hope to have the aid of your valorous and invincible arm.
“Therefore, good my lord, restore to my father his honour, and believe him to be both wise and sagacious, for by his magic he has found me a remedy for all my misfortunes. For I believe that had it not been for you, I should never have attained the happiness I now enjoy, and that I speak the truth these good gentlemen will bear witness. All that is now wanted is that tomorrow morning we set out on our journey. As for the conclusion of the good success I hourly expect, that I leave to the valour of your invincible arm.”
Thus spoke the witty Dorothea, and Don Quixote, having heard her, turned to Sancho with an air of great indignation and said, “Now, I say unto thee, Sancho, thou art the veriest little rascal in all Spain. Tell me, thief and vagabond, didst thou not tell me that this princess was turned into a damsel and that she was called Dorothea? And that the head that I slashed from a giant’s shoulders was a wine-skin, with a thousand other follies, that threw me into the greatest confusion I was ever in in my life? I vow,” he continued, looking up to the heavens and crashing his teeth together, “I vow that I am about to make such a havoc of thee, as shall beat some wit into the pates of all the lying squires that shall hereafter ever serve knights-errant in this world.
“I pray you have patience, good my lord,” answered Sancho, “for it may well befall me to be deceived touching the change of the lady and Princess Micomicona. But in what touches the giant’s head, or at least the cutting of the winebags, and that the blood was but red wine, I am not deceived, I swear. For the bags lie wounded there at your own bed-head, and the red wine hath made a lake in your room, and all this you will know when his honour the landlord asks you to pay the damages.”
“I tell thee, Sancho, thou art a blockhead,” said Don Quixote. “Pardon me, we have had enough of it.”
“Enough, indeed,” said Don Fernando, “and let me entreat you to say no more of it. Seeing my lady the princess says she will go away tomorrow, as it is too late to depart today, let us agree to spend this evening in pleasant discourse.”
It was now time for supper, and they all sat down at a long table, for there was not a square or round one in the whole house. And they gave the principal end to Don Quixote, though he did all he could to refuse it, but when he had taken it, he commanded that the Lady Micomicona should sit at his elbow, as he was her champion. The others being placed in due order, they all enjoyed a pleasant supper, listening to the wise, strange discourse that Don Quixote held upon his favourite subject of knightly adventures.
The End